Effrontery
by Black Sword
Summary: Boldness and presumption are the order of the day at the headquarters of those who defy Lune.
1. Chapter 1

The bustle and clamor of hundreds echoed deep within the cave. The murmurs of many simultaneous conversations were an accompanying background noise as soldiers bitched, commanders bellowed, and camp followers bantered. In alcoves carved into the rock by the elements or Techniques, smiths worked steel into blades, armor, and arrows as the ringing of metal on metal sounded everywhere. Roars, howls, and snarls were a cacophony of bestial sounds as monsters were herded to and fro. Clusters of troops gathered around fire pits, eager for their meals as the smell of slumgullion competed with that of unwashed bodies and camp latrines. Flames turned the dark interior of the cave into midday.

Ryan Ka Shiumu walked through the army he had painstakingly gathered, a handful of his most loyal warriors in his wake serving as an honor guard. Three years ago, it would have been the strongest single army seen in Elysium in centuries, a force that could have carved out a true Layan kingdom in the place of the schismatic Southern League. Nowadays, it was just one more bit player in a world crowded with them. Even so, he was determined that it would be the force that defeated a legend.

Grim thoughts tightened his mouth. The Southern League was supposed to be an alliance of the Layan lords against the Orakian Kingdom of Divisia. An assembly of the many lords was supposed to make decisions regarding the war, but the truth of the matter was that the Layan lords spent as much time fighting each other as they did fighting the Orakians. The greatest Layan lords expended considerable sums hiring professional hirelings to complement their conscript armies, while landless nobles formed mercenary companies to make their livings at the expense of the great lords. However, as professional soldiers of fortune, their employers were not always Layan.

Second son of a minor Layan lord, Ryan had been on the battlefield as a freelancer since age fifteen. Over the past twenty years, he had built the strongest mercenary band in Elysium. It had not hurt that he was one of the chosen who had received the great gift of the goddess Laya: the ability to transform into a powerful dragon. The knowledge that he was a Dragon Knight had only enhanced the battlefield desirability of the Company of the Silent Moon. The irony in the name had not been lost on him.

Either way, they had commanded the best contracts for two simple reasons: their skill and their commitment to fulfilling their agreements. Many of the other mercenary bands were treacherous cowards, with a marked tendency to avoid combat and "resolve" fights with bribes, either for themselves or for the opponent. The Silent Moon was unique in fighting bravely and determinedly. They'd even fought for detestable Orakians against other Orakians, when the meseta was good enough.

Everything had changed three years ago. Messages had been sent to all the lords of the Southern League that commanded them to Aerone to swear allegiance to someone calling himself Lune. The reaction had been unanimous: dismissive laughter. The great lords went about their affairs without worry. When rumors came that an army was assembling in Aerone, a handful of lesser lords saw it as an excuse to loot the place. They called up their conscripts and attacked.

The heads of those lords currently decorated the gates of Aerone.

Word of the defeat and its aftermath had spread like wildfire. Certain it was a fluke, another group of lesser lords had banded together, hired a few mercenary bands to supplement their forces, and attacked. That battle ended as brutally as the first had, with the lords and mercenary captains adding their heads to the macabre ornaments outside Aerone.

Right about then was when the greatest lords of the Southern League decided that the upstart at Aerone needed to be taught a lesson. The three greatest lords summoned an assembly packed with their allies and minions and passed a declaration of war against "Lune of Aerone." The call went out to the mercenary bands, and a grand army marched on the town. Ryan had also received a hiring offer, but deemed the price as beneath his notice.

The sheer number of trophies that adorned the town gates after the Third Battle of Aerone soaked Elysium in a wave of terror.

When the messages went out a second time, the lords of the Southern League tripped over each other to arrive at Aerone fast enough. They were welcomed by Layan soldiers in the ancient armor of the Devastation War and the commandeered survivors of the three attacks on the town. However, that faded to nothing when they met the giant who called himself General Lune Kay Eshyr.

Lune's words at that convocation had been spread throughout the Southern League. "I have returned from my thousand year exile at Orakio's hands. Your time of bungling is at an end. You will resume to your role as Laya's soldiers and obey me absolutely. The return to open warfare with the Orakians begins now!"

"Captain, do you think it's true?"

Reverie interrupted, Ryan glanced at the bodyguard who had spoken. "Do I think what is true?" he asked in his gravelly voice.

"That...that Lune truly is the Lune of legend, Laya's champion, back from the moon."

Ryan adjusted his glasses, darkened spectacles that were a rare prize from a thousand years ago. The shades adjusted automatically to light conditions, allowing the optimal amount to flow in. They had the added advantage of obscuring his face, preventing anyone from reading his intentions through his eyes. "Almost all of the greatest lords and half of the lesser lords formed an army to fight against him after the convocation," Ryan said quietly. "The largest army in Elysium in a thousand years, they said. They were swept aside like a child's tantrum. Or did you forget that?"

The soldier shook his head. Silent Moon had been present at the Fourth Battle of Aerone as observers. Instinct had told Ryan not to sign onto the campaign. He thanked Laya every day that he had heeded that small voice. When Lune's army had finished, the green field had been turned into an abattoir.

"Whatever else he may be," Ryan continued. "He is a great threat to our way of life."

A sigh shook the soldier. "I wish we hadn't lost the..." His mouth clicked shut.

His mood suddenly darkened, Ryan stopped before a group of Layan archers. The platoon leader noticed his arrival and stopped what she was doing. "Attention! At arms!"

The women all stopped what they were doing to salute him. He nodded at them. "Has the _shousa _been here today?"

A slight stir went up and down their ranks. The platoon leader pursed her lips before she answered. "I haven't seen her today, sir. I think she's at the back of the cave with her guards."

"Thank you," Ryan said as he turned around and continued his inspection, his pace in the little chit's direction. Perhaps this time he would succeed in getting the little chit to obey. Highly doubtful, but at least it would give him something else to concentrate on.

After Lune became the undisputed master of the Southern League, things had changed. Nobles of all levels were treated like common foot soldiers. The hoarded wealth of the mercenary captains was seized. The lands and possessions of the lords who had fought against the giant were confiscated without regard for their heirs. Contracts vanished, replaced with paltry wages. The ranks of the disaffected grew with each of the tyrant's abuses. Rebel groups formed even as Lune attacked Divisia. Casualties grew day by day.

Ryan had figured out that each rebel group would only annoy someone as strongly positioned as Lune, so he came up with a different strategy. He would use his band as the core of an elite army, use his reputation to gather all the rebel groups together, and defeat Lune once and for all. The dream that things could return to how they had been if Lune was no longer around drew many to his banner. Simple though it seemed, Ryan suspected that the changes Lune had brought would not be undone just by defeating the giant. In the power vacuum left behind, however, "King Ryan" was a distinct possibility. For that to succeed, however, he needed allies.

In his search for confederates, he had once sneaked deep into Lune's territory for a clandestine meeting with a rebel group, only to discover he had been led into a trap. The Layans that confronted him wore the ancient armor that marked them as Lune's most loyal followers. Outnumbered, Ryan had transformed into his Dragon Knight form on the spot. Barbed arrows that had sought his flesh clattered harmlessly against his tough squamous armor. The powerful Techniques that followed up those steel weapons, however, had been infinitely more dangerous. He had fled, unable to use his wings for fear they would be ripped to shreds by arrows and fireballs.

During his escape, he had spotted a cave. His options few, Ryan had run toward it with all his speed. He had slammed into an invisible barrier. He had struggled frantically to get through, but the glass wall had not budged. Desperate, he had abandoned all human thought and poured all of his might into breaking through. Energy far beyond that of a Technique repelled him even as the gift of the goddess poured power into his body. Lightning had rippled along his body in blue tendrils that sent spikes of pain through every nerve in his body. Bestial instinct overrode any sane concern.

As the voices of his fleet-footed pursuers grew louder, the barrier let him through. He fell down metal stairs. Dazed, he had picked himself up, only to confront a sight that boggled his mind. An alien landscape as far as the eyes could see, filled with machinery. Columns of dull gray reached far overhead as small lights blinked in strange patterns. Instinct told him that the key to defeating Lune lay on the other side. Confident in Laya's will, Ryan had followed the segmented metal walkways to their end, to emerge in another world.

Like all Elysians, Ryan knew there were seven worlds. He also knew that the goddess had decreed that no one could reach those other worlds, "for the secret world within the waves of the desert holds Her Treasure."

Yet he had arrived in that world of desert, its gently rolling dunes a sight that left him speechless. Still in the shape of a dragon, he spent many hours of that first night on top of a dune, mesmerized as the winds made the sea of sand dance into many shapes. Sometimes, he saw the sinuous curves of a woman's bare body. Other times, he had seen haunting echoes of his father's fief. He might have remained there until morning if not for an interruption.

"Your Highness, you are still wounded! You cannot go!"

Ryan had watched as a tall figure had staggered by, his face partially concealed by a strip of cloth wrapped around his eye. Several men in armor he did not recognize followed behind him. Ryan suspected that if the one-eyed fellow had not been a king, they would have seized him and dragged him back.

"I am not waiting here while my daughter is in that demon's hands!"

Those fellows didn't even flinch at the one-eyed king's bellow. Apparently, it was an argument that had been going on for some time. The second armored man stepped in to continue the fight.

"Your Highness, we need you! You are the sole leader left to us!"

"My daughter needs me!"

"Your Highness, without you, Cille and Shusoran die here in Aridia," said the third, his face grim.

A bitter chuckle met that statement. "Without Thea, Cille and Shusoran die here in Aridia. Don't be fools! We all know the truth. If only for that, you must know I have to go save her!"

"Your Highness, you are too weak to face Siren again. We cannot afford to lose you when we have already lost Queen Maia and Queen Lann," said the first armored man.

Siren! These were Layans who had fought Orakio's Fist and survived! Surely, such powerful allies would be of great help against Lune. Not only that, they had desperately needed something, which gave him an opening. Ryan had leaped down from the dune, surprising them all.

"I am a Dragon Knight," he had gutturally growled at them. "I will rescue your Thea, at a price."

One green eye had glared at him. The lines of pain on that face belonged that of a healthy man near Ryan's own age. "What price?"

"Your warriors will swear fealty to me and my cause," Ryan had replied. "No more and no less."

The one-eyed king had squinted at him. "Would you take my throne?"

"No," Ryan had replied. "I only need soldiers to fight beside me against a threat to my people."

"Is that so?" A smirk had appeared on that scarred countenance. "Very well. So long as I am the ruler of Shusoran, the warriors of Cille and Shusoran will fight alongside you."

Agreement reached, the King of Shusoran had tossed him a large green gem. "My daughter and heir, Thea, was abducted by Siren himself. Others of our women were also taken. They are in another world. We are almost certain it is the one to the east of this one. That gem, the Dragon's Tear, should open the passage to it."

The cacophony of protests from the armored men was drowned out by Ryan's suspicious growl. "How do you know that?"

The smirk did not fade. "Call it a hunch. Are you backing out?"

Desperation to get his hands on this man's soldiers decided Ryan. "No."

"Then return with my daughter!"

So he had gone east. He had found the cave that led to yet another world and followed a trail of rumors to an Orakian castle that supposedly held the princess and others. In his dragon form, he had co-opted a band of Layan nomads and attacked the castle by surprise. It had been a great success, since he had managed to get all of the women out. There had been only one small problem.

Ryan touched the scar that ran from eyebrow to cheek. An Orakian cyborg had slipped past his guard in dragon form and wounded his face with a hot weapon. His eye was still in socket, but it had been damaged beyond hope. What was left of his cornea was a blurred mess that caused stomachs to turn. Thankfully, Ryan was right-handed. The loss of his left eye was inconvenient, but would not slow him down too much on the battlefield.

No, what still provoked his rage even now was the betrayal that had followed. The King of Shusoran had died shortly after Ryan returned with his daughter. Now the leader of two nations of refugees, Thea had relied on him to assist her. He had evacuated the refugees of Cille and Shusoran, an effort accomplished without alerting the Orakians of that world only thanks to Laya's blessing. Thea had given him the Twins' Ruby in gratitude. He had brought them to Elysium, confident that her troops would be his in the battle against Lune.

And what did that little whore do? Discover the identity of his enemy and deliver herself into his hands! Swear fealty to him! There had gone the army he was certain would help him defeat Lune!

When he had attempted to remind the councilors to whom they owed service, the response had left him speechless. "The terms of the agreement His Highness King Lyle made were explicit. 'So long as I am ruler of Shusoran.' His Highness is dead and no longer our ruler. Her Highness has made her preference clear, and we shall follow her."

"Damn you, you cunning rat bastard," Ryan muttered inaudibly as he arrived at the back of the cave. "Tricksome whoreson."

Right about then, Layans throughout Elysium had begun to call Lune their emperor. Left without options, he had spent the year and a half since building his forces up, determined to destroy his oppressor and his betrayer. Rebels flocked to his banner. He even welcomed the Orakians, cut off from their own kind, into his army. Ryan was a beggar in his own world, and could not afford to be choosy about his allies. Aware he could not defeat Lune in open battle, Ryan had changed his strategy. Rather than fight, he would deny the demon Laya's Treasure and seize it for himself. The chief obstacle was penetrating the defenses of Lune _and_ Divisia. As he did not have enough to break through, he conserved his strength. To make sure his soldiers kept their edge, he raided Lune's depots and disrupted his supply lines.

Crowded though the cave was, there was a large space between the troops and the tiny encampment that was his goal. Women in pale blue and white clothing stood at attention, one at each cardinal direction, their hands ready to draw the curved swords at their hips. Blue-hued breastplates offered their torsos good protection, even as their hard gazes did nothing to conceal their physical beauty. They were part of the Kensai embassy… if one used the word "embassy" loosely enough, at least.

"I want to speak to your master," he said gruffly. "Tell her that and be quick about it."

The bitch glared at him defiantly, pretty much as Ryan expected. For at least two hundred years, mysterious raiders had come and vanished in southern Elysium without explanation. For them to show up virtually on his doorstep seeking to ally against Lune had been, at the time, an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Their leader, the _shousa_, had brought an impressive platoon forty strong and hinted she could call up many more. The problem was that _she _expected to lead not only her Kensai, but Ryan's entire army.

"Kayo."

The bitch turned her back on him and knelt. "_Shousa_."

A brat wearing gold clothes and a silver cuirass touched the bitch's head to receive the obeisance. Her name was Miyu, and she was supposed to be the leader of the Kensai, sword-wielding Layans that supposedly came from another world, a frozen hell covered in "ice" and "snow." Whatever else, she was _insufferable_.

The girl tossed her long lavender hair over her shoulder, her clear blue eyes condescending. "Is there something you wish to discuss, Ryan?"

Beautiful though she was, the only thing Ryan really lusted to do at this point was beat her face into the ground. "That's Captain Ka Shiumu to you, _shousa_."

Tension suddenly filled the air. The bitch at Miyu's feet attempted to stand, but the lavender-haired girl's hand kept her in place. Sapphire daggers bounced off his glasses as the girl attempted to stare him down. More Kensai edged closer to their leader as his own bodyguards eased their staffs into combat stances.

"Watch yourself, male," Miyu said softly, her tone a threat.

Just his luck that the strongest potential allies he had encountered let women run things instead of men. Their obstinacy had already cost him the opening presented by the Divisians' capture of the demon's sister, since Alair had somehow escaped from the dungeon. Rumor had it that a redheaded woman had helped her escape. If he somehow managed to convince these bitches to join his side, they were all going in the vanguard with the Orakians. "Have you reconsidered your position?"

"My position?" Her tone was all amusement now. "The Kensai will not follow a man. The only reason we would even deign to help you is that we have no wish for Lune to attempt to rule over us. I have told you this many times."

"My men won't follow a woman, especially not a..._young_ woman." It had been on the tip of his tongue to call her a brat.

"That is unfortunate," Miyu said mockingly. "Laya's holy barrier will keep Lune away from us. You have no such blessing."

Ryan gritted his teeth and said nothing. Yes, those barriers gave the brat a defense that only a Dragon Knight or monsters could get through. Even if Lune sent all his beasts to cause terror, they could not take cities or bring others to heel for him. That still didn't mean he was going to submit to this brat half his age! Perhaps if he had them all seized and tortured...

"If you think you will, perhaps, force us to submit to you, I warn you that you will not have your way," Miyu said with a touch of contempt. "Even if you attempt to seize us, we will break free, and there will be war between the Kensai and your rebels. You cannot afford another enemy, Ryan."

Calculations flickered through his mind. There was always the chance that in the confusion, one of the Kensai would indeed break free and return to her world. If the Kensai had anything like the strength this brat claimed they did, his already tenuous situation would become impossible to overcome. She had him by the balls.

"Captain!"

Ryan turned his head in the direction of the voice. One of his men was waving at him excitedly. A group consisting of one tall, broad-shouldered man with brown hair, a second of equal size with wild black hair and a pale complexion, and a lithe redheaded woman with a dancer's frame followed close behind the soldier. Instinct screamed at him.

_They're the ones who freed the demon's sister!_


	2. Chapter 2

"I never thought I'd see the day Layans and Orakians would fight together like this," Nial said as he observed the armed camp deep within the cave.

"My master thought such a day impossible," Mieu agreed, her blue eyes as intent as his own.

Orakian soldiers in field plate sharpened swords and knives while nearby Layan warriors donned tabards over their scale armor. Women in red tunics maintained their bows and slicers besides technicians elbows-deep in war machines. Target mats sprouted arrows and flechettes as projectile troops practiced alternating their volleys.

It was not all peaceful, as plenty of knights, Orakian and Layan, eyed each other askance as they unconsciously loosened a blade from its sheath or hefted a staff over a shoulder. But for every scene of barely concealed hostility, another of poorly hidden curiosity played out. A green-haired Layan archer stared at a bipedal Stix and its half-dozen thin arms. Even though the war machine stood on its reverse-jointed legs in standby mode, she was fascinated by the orb that continuously circled the Stix's spherical torso. Nearby, an Orakian noble seemingly intent on cleaning his needler surreptitiously leered at the archer's shapely limbs.

That surprised him. Not the obvious lechery; men were men, and got up to the same antics now that they had in the time of Orakio. Even the incongruity of an Orakian lusting for a Layan could be explained by the perversity of men wanting what was forbidden. No, what still surprised him was how a man who was supposed to be a knight could act against the ideals he was meant to uphold.

Knighthood was the most important honor a young nobleman could obtain short of his own fief. To be a knight meant to swear an oath to Orakio himself, to hold the line against Laya and Lune and act with honor, help those in need, and punish those who harm or threaten innocents. Chivalry, integrity, dedication, and always doing the right thing, these were the essentials of being a true knight.

It was the ideal he had pursued ever since he had been old enough to walk.

How could he not? His father was King Rhys, the strongest Orakian warrior, the knight who had brought peace between Landen and Aquatica. His old man had challenged a dragon unarmed, had suffered great hardship as he chased it across three worlds to save someone, had defeated the Kings of Cille and Shusoran in single combat, all the while being true to the oath he had sworn as a knight of the Order of the Lakes. His father was a great hero and a true knight.

King Lyle of Shusoran had also been a true knight. Even now, the story was told of how the crafty Layan had pledged his life to his father, an Orakian, in gratitude for the salvation of his world. How could any knight not admire men so true to their oaths that they ignored the ancient hatred that was burned into the collective souls of the peoples of Orakio and Laya?

A true knight, like his father and King Lyle, had the strength of his convictions and followed them to their end, no matter what hardship he faced. How could he not strive after such a beautiful ideal?

How could he hope to be a true knight when his weakness meant an entire city of his innocents had been slaughtered?

Blood. The stench suddenly assailed his nostrils as the vision of his grandfather, ripped to shreds by monster claws, filled his sight. He almost missed a step, a weakness his cape concealed. Bile rose in his gorge as his stomach tried to empty. He forced down the nausea with a will.

How could he be a true knight when he could not even save those closest to him?

Nial's fingers traced the hilt of the curved blade at his hip. Normally, his great sword would be there, but for now it rested in the scabbard slung across his back. The weapon he touched was lighter, slightly curved as opposed to uniformly straight, with an edge that never dulled and was sharp enough to cut through the strongest armor. Alone amongst swords, it lacked a guard, leaving it a weapon that possessed only the blade and the grip.

It was an heirloom, passed on from generation to generation within House No Satera. The name of this royal sword was Friendless. The reason for that was simple: without a guard, the blade was just as capable of cutting its wielder as it was of cutting its foe. Friendless was the enemy of its master's foes, but no ally to its master. Why the sword was made like this, no one but the long-ago Sateran king who had had it forged knew. With the death of his grandfather and the end of House No Satera, it was his now.

He did not want it.

This sword was the weight of his failure. Every time he put it on, he felt the burden of his shame. His people, his grandfather, all the lives he had not saved. Still, he wore it, for remembrance and as a reminder. Friendless stood apart, isolated. It spilled blood and was indifferent to whose blood it spilled. It was a blade that required great will to keep pointed at the enemy. The sword was alienated from its home and from others. Simply put, it was at odds with who he was and what he strove for. If he wanted to be a true knight, he had to overcome the weapon's trial.

A pair of Orakians hailed him, but Nial ignored them. He did not like the Divisians. His own people were combative, but they were honorable, at least. They did not do sordid things like kidnapping, the way this lot did.

Rage boiled the blood in his veins whenever he thought about what the Divisians had done. Some uncanny intuition had prompted Nial to hide who they were when they had first arrived in Divisia. The news in the town had been enough to justify his obedience to that voice. To think that they had kidnapped Lune's sister! What made it even worse was they had done so precisely _because _she was Lune's sister. Their trap had been crafted specifically to take her alive and use her as leverage. They were disgraces to their vows to Orakio! Unforgivable.

It had not taken long to devise and prepare a breakout. A drop of blood had been all it took to gain entry to the castle, to be feted and hailed as a hero. The Divisians had been in disaccord. For every lord and soldier who boasted of kidnapping Lune's sister, another doubted the wisdom behind the idea, especially as reports came in of Lune's depredations. Regardless, they had all gone into denial and embarked on costly attempts to distract themselves from the very real threat of annihilation. That had worked out to his advantage. While the Divisians had all been distracted by yet another celebration, he had freed Alair.

Nial tugged at his ear a little. When he had heard of "Lune's sister," he had expected a middle-aged harridan, stout, squat, and ugly, with muscles large enough to bend steel and a shrewish demeanor. Instead, he had been presented with a tall, slender girl around his own age, with a heart-shaped face, light blue eyes, and bright lime green hair that was impossible to mistake for anyone else.

Rescuing Alair might have seemed like saving a damsel in distress, but one look at that determined face made it clear to Nial she had never seen herself as that. She was a fighter, just like his mother Lena. Still, the way she had kept tripping over her skirts had been cute. It had almost been enough to bring a smile to his face. Almost.

He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled, let alone laughed.

In an effort to head off that train of thought, Nial asked. "I wonder what Lune thinks of this lot?"

"Most likely, he doesn't," Mieu replied. "Though if their nuisance value has grown to the point he's noticed them, he'll crush them."

Nial took several more steps before he repeated the question he had asked after Alair's escape. "Are we sure it's the real Lune?"

"High probability," Wren said. "Reconstructive surgery is able to replicate a Palman face in general, but it is not able to produce a perfect copy. Facial recognition match for Subject A is 99.8%, too close for even the most skilled surgeon, mechanical or humanoid. Vocal spectrum analysis produced an equivalent match."

Subject A was how Wren referred to Alair. Though he did not quite understand the jargon-heavy explanation, the black android's absolute certainty could not be disputed. The Lune they faced was truly Orakio's legendary opponent.

Lune was an enigma to him. Nial was an Orakian, descended from Orakio himself. He had had enough contact with Layans to know the goddess of darkness most of his people feared was a force of love for their ancient foes. Nial was open-minded enough to think that good attributed to Orakio and Laya was most likely to be the truth. Why else would their followers venerate them so, a thousand years later?

Not only that, King Lyle had proven to him that the ideal of the true knight was something shared by both peoples. How could someone who was the goddess of love for an entire race chose a monster as her champion? If a champion was the knight chosen to represent the ruler, did it mean the goddess the Layans worshipped was also a monster? If she was, why had she passed the same law as his ancestor? Why were both Orakians and Layans forbidden to take each other's lives with their own hands?

Even with those questions on his mind, one thing was clear. When he had become a knight, he had sworn to hold the line against Lune. Lune had to be defeated, one way or another.

"There's the boss!" Their guide waved excitedly. "Captain!"

Ahead of them, a tall, broad-shouldered man with hair as black as night looked in their direction. Nial instantly recognized a hard-bitten warrior in that green mantle, someone who had spent so much time on the battlefield that he had no other existence. Beside him was a young lavender-haired woman around his own age, very pretty, wearing golden clothes and a metal cuirass. She was probably a daughter or low-ranking subordinate.

Nial was fascinated by the man's glasses. The obsidian accessory handily concealed half his face, leaving only the merest hints at the scar that seemed to run over his left eye. Nothing could be read, either of his personality or of his intentions. To fight this man would be to fight at a disadvantage. Only his lips were visible, able to smile when this man launched the finishing blow. He was not an enemy Nial wanted to make.

He stopped in front of the black-haired man. It would take a great will to meet that expressionless gaze head on, but Nial would not back down. "I am Prince Nial Sa Riik of Landen, descendant of Orakio. I am an opponent of Lune."

Those same words had gained him entry to this rebel camp. The black-haired man looked him up and down as he crossed his arms.

"I'm Captain Ryan Ka Shiumu, the leader of these rebels," came the response, his voice deep and gravelly. "I know that you rescued Lune's sister, Alair. Lune must have sent you three to infiltrate us!"

Nial blinked, surprised. No one in Divisia had connected him to Alair's disappearance. Most rumors said that Alair had simply disappeared. The only rumor that hinted at an escape was...

_Damn it_.

He very carefully did not look at Mieu. That slight hesitation had probably given the whole thing away. "Lune cannot be defeated with actions that disgrace the very meaning of being a knight."

"That's a load of shit," Ryan sneered. "We're fighting a real demon for survival. Idiotic ideals like that have no place here, especially not from Lune's spy!"

"Then what's the difference between you and him?" Nial asked sharply. "Either we hold to our ideals or we become the same enemy we're fighting!"

"What do _you _know about the enemy we're fighting, _spy_?"

Nial ignored the insult. "My mother's kingdom of Satera was burned to the ground by Lune's army. I know the enemy we face even better than you, _Ryan_. You might condone something that disgraces the vows of a knight, but _I won't_."

Tension filled the air as Ryan uncrossed his arms. The black-haired man's hands reached for his weapons, a pair of short staffs at his hips. Nial's hand went up to the great sword on his back. The older soldier had more experience on the battlefield, but Nial had been taught how to fight by the strongest Orakian warrior alive and one of the mightiest of Orakio's servants.

"Oh, so even you can put on a good face like that," a feminine voice murmured.

Ryan turned his head in surprise. The lavender-haired girl was tapping her chin thoughtfully as she studied Nial with keen interest. It almost felt like he was being evaluated for purchase.

"I will fight him on your behalf, Ryan," she announced. "Consider it a token of my goodwill."

"_Shousa_?"

Even with half his face concealed, the rebel leader was obviously confused, a sentiment Nial shared. A token of goodwill? How did that make sense?

"Of course, once I have beaten him, he will belong to me," she added.

"Belong?" Nial asked simultaneously with Ryan.

Smiles appeared on the faces of the women around the lavender-haired girl. She seemed puzzled at his lack of understanding. "Well, of course. Returning home with a prize like the descendant of the great demon Orakio would bring great honor."

"Prize? You make me sound like a possession!" Nial protested.

A frown appeared on her face. "You're male. How else is it supposed to be?"

If he had possessed just a little less princely dignity, Nial would have stared at her slack-jawed. And to think he had thought she was pretty!

"If that is what you would like, _shousa_, I have no problem yielding the right to fight Lune's spy," Ryan said gravely. Nial thought he heard undertones of amusement.

"That's good," the girl said. She drew her sword, a slender and curved single-edged affair, and smirked at Nial. "You should learn the name of your mistress. I am Miyu, _shousa _of the Kensai and chieftain of the Falling Snow Tribe. I ask that you fight."

Nial said nothing as he drew his sword from his back. The straight double-edged weapon was singularly unsuited to the drawing techniques of his ancestor's sword art. That style was for Friendless at his hip. Nial held his sword in front of him at a steep angle, his left hand over his right hand, atypical for a right-handed swordsman like himself. Thankfully, Moon Dance was not limited to the Art of the Draw.

"I see I will have to teach you how to respond properly," Miyu said haughtily as she shifted her left hand to the bottom of her sword's hilt. Her right hand was near the tip of the sword, pointed at him. Her right foot led, right beneath her right hand, her left foot positioned similarly under her left hand.

Miyu wasted no time in allowing the heat and tension of battle to fill them. She pushed forward on her right foot and closed the distance between them. Suddenly, she thrust her sword, her target his torso. Nial opened his left hand and met her attack with all the might of his dominant hand.

Momentum was key. Even as his deflection allowed him to reposition his body, Miyu's thwarted strike forced her to continue forward. Nial rammed her with his shoulder. She reeled from the blow. Even as he advanced to launch his next strike, he had to approve of the way she never loosened her grip on her sword.

Nial sensed more than saw two additional enemies. Calling upon all the speed inherent in his ancestor's sword art, he created distance between himself and the new arrivals within the blink of an eye. He eyed the two women in blue, annoyed that what had seemed a one-on-one duel had clearly not been meant to remain so. Except...

"Get back!" Miyu said angrily. She gestured at her two surprised followers. "I'll beat him myself! Do not interfere!"

"But _shousa_..."

"Get _back_. I'm going to beat him alone!"

His opinion of his opponent went up a little. He once again positioned his sword at a steep angle, only this time, his dominant hand over his off hand. Miyu dropped back into her technique stance before she dashed forward once again. Her weapon was steady as she used her attack; Nial met the attack head-on. His sword rose from low to high in a powerful upward slash that once again staggered the smaller woman.

Rising Moon: the name of the move he had used on the _shousa_. It was one of the techniques found in the second half of Orakio's sword art, Art of the Cut. These were moves meant to be used when the sword was out of its sheath. While not as powerful as drawing techniques, Nial felt it suited him better, as cutting techniques derived all of their might directly from the swordsman's body.

Steel rang on steel; Nial used his superior strength to push the _shousa _back. The power behind his blows drained her even as his great sword chipped her more brittle weapon. He did not give her the opportunity to use her favorite attack again and stayed on top of her.

His opening came when he countered one of her strikes with another Rising Moon. Her guard broken, Nial moved his sword behind his back and brought it down in the powerful overhead blow called Moon Drop. His physical strength combined with the downward momentum made it his mightiest attack.

Miyu moved to block, her thin weapon her only defense. The strike knocked her down flat on her back. She tried to stand but froze when she saw what had happened to her weapon: the blade had been bent and rendered useless.

Before anyone could do or say anything, a loud voice caught all attention. "My, my, bickering amongst ourselves, eh?"

Ryan spun. Outrage colored his voice. "Lune! How did you get here, you demon?"

As shocked as everyone else in the rebel cave, Nial stared at his enemy. Lune was a massive giant of a man, a head taller than Nial and built more heavily. His hair was the same color as his sister's, a bright lime green that virtually illuminated the cave. His tunic and trousers were of slate grey and did nothing to conceal the muscles built by years of hard combat. Around his neck, he wore a collar set with a large round stone. That face twisted into an ugly sneer.

"That's Emperor Demon to you, worm! Abandon your revolt or you will all die!"

"And what are you going to do by yourself?" Ryan seemed to have recovered his nerve much quicker than anyone else. "Seize him!"

"Fool," Lune said contemptuously. He moved his hand almost languidly as a half-dozen soldiers raced to obey Ryan. "Negatis."

The soldiers stopped in their tracks. All of them desperately clawed at their throats as they collapsed to the ground. Nial could only watch, horrified, as they fell to the cave floor and flailed, their mouths open in silent screams.

Time slowed to a crawl as the soldiers' movements became weaker and weaker until they finally stopped. No one said anything. No one dared move.

"W..." Ryan swallowed before he tried again. "What was that?"

Lune's answering smile was plain nasty. "That was magic. True magic, not the shoddy Techniques you inferior lot use. I strangled them in a pocket of vacuum."

"You...demon..."

Mocking laughter met the weak curse as Nial tried to grasp what he had seen. Had he truly... had Lune... _killed_? It wasn't possible. Laya's Law and Orakio's Law said the same thing. Do not kill. No one could possibly...

"I gave you your choices," Lune said as he raised his arm. "Abandon your revolt or die. So commands Laya's general and champion."

Nial snapped the moment he heard the word "champion." Without conscious thought, he dashed forward, the distance between himself and this demon gone within a heartbeat. Lune blinked in surprise as Nial launched his left hand in a powerful punch. The giant caught his attack with the hand that had been about to launch another foul sorcery. Nial caught Lune's counter in his right hand.

They pushed against each other, brute strength against brute strength. Rage lent him the power to match the giant's superior might. "You're no one's champion!"

"What are you... babbling about?" Lune panted as effort knotted his face.

"Laya commanded her people not to kill." Nial bit the words off. "You flaunt your goddess' last command and try to pass yourself off as her champion? You think you're a knight worthy to represent your master? You're a demon! Forsworn by your own foul desecration of Laya's will! You have no honor! You are no true knight!"

Lune's face twisted into a hideous grimace. He drew back his left fist, still firmly caught in Nial's right hand. The giant's trapped punch was followed by a word. "Basara!"

A powerful impact hit his entire body with overwhelming force. Nial flew through the air before he crashed into something. Dazed, he tried to get up, but his body refused as pain flooded every nerve. He felt like he had been thrown off the top of Orakio's Keep.

Stubbornness forced Nial to his feet. Muscles rebelled at their use; every inch of him felt like a single massive bruise. Even so, he would not let Lune think that the blood of Orakio was kneeling before him. His vision blurred.

"Know your places, mongrels," Lune said. "I will return with my army and slaughter you all! Hinas!"

A blur of light and Lune vanished. Honor had been satisfied. Nial fell forward as Mieu dashed to catch him.

_I'll... defeat you... Lune._


End file.
